Conflict Of Honors by Steve Miller, Sharon Lee Read Free Book Online Page B

perfume— Endless Lust?" Rusty turned a pained face to the woman beside him.

    "It is the smell," Lina told him with dignity, "not the name."

    "You're the expert. Four hundred bushels raw cotton; and thirty-two dozen bottles Essence of Themngo." He shook his head. "That kid better be right this time . . . . What do you think, Priscilla?"

    "Impressive," she said sincerely. "You seem to have chosen well—mostly luxury items. I'm not an expert on woods, though. Thirty kilos sounds like either too much or too little."

    "It is the artists," Lina explained. "Everywhere we go, there are the artists, always looking for something new. Rah Stee starts with the wood . . . oh, long ago, when the captain's father was captain. Now, we have orders. The wood becomes a—a usual thing. We are expected."

    Priscilla nodded, struck by another thought. "You've got an entire hold tied up in the crew's speculative cargo? What about capacity fees?"

    "Cap'n pledges that. On condition the ship gets her share first out of any profit. The ship shares any loss, too—it's a fair deal."

    "More than fair." She sipped her cooling coffee. "Your captain sounds unusual."

    "He is a good captain," Lina said.

    "And the Passage is a profitable ship," Rusty added, turning back to the screen. "Most of the wood'll go at Arsdred—the Artisan's Guild put in a big order. We might pick up a few odds and ends there—not too likely, though, since almost everybody running this sector stops there. Number Six'll be empty for a while." He glanced at Priscilla. "Can't make money that way."

    "But you just said the wood's an ordered item," she pointed out. "You've got a profit, right?"

    "Yeah, I guess." He brightened. "Tell you what—let's try and get our shore leaves matched for Arsdred. Then we can go scouting together. Who knows? Something might turn for the spec. Or even for the ship."

    Priscilla stared at him. "I might not be onboard at Arsdred, remember?" She drank the rest of her coffee and shook her head. "Do you all look for the ship, too? What's the Master Trader do?"

    Lina laughed.

    "He trades," Rusty said, his round face serious. "We don't trade. But anybody might see something. Cap'n's only one person—he could miss a deal just 'cause he can't be in three places at once. So as many of the crew as can go worldside. If you see something, you hotfoot to the nearest comm and call the cap'n or Kayzin Ne'Zame—first mate. If it turns out to be a go, there's a finder's fee." He blinked at her. "What's wrong?"

    "Nothing. I—the last ship I was on didn't—encourage—the crew to go worldside. And the Trader did all the trading."

    "Sounds like a stupid arrangement to me," the man said flatly.

    "It does not make good sense," Lina agreed slowly. "The ship is everyone's venture. We all take a share of the profit. It is only sensible to work hard for a big profit." She looked carefully at Priscilla. "Perhaps you were not on such a good ship before."

    "Perhaps I wasn't," Priscilla said dryly, and lifted a hand to cover a sudden yawn. "I'm sorry. It's been a long day. Better be finding my room . . . ." She uncoiled her legs and stood.

    With a nod, Rusty signed off and moved out of the alcove. One of the card players looked up and waved him over. "In a sec," he called, and turned back. "Priscilla, I bet you threebits you'll be on the Passage at Arsdred."

    "I don't have threebits to bet," she said ruefully. "But I hope you're right. It was good to meet you."

    "See you later," he responded, and drifted off toward the game.

    "You should excuse Rah Stee," Lina said, waving a hand at his retreating back. "You know where your room is from here?"

    "I have a map," Priscilla began, fishing in her pocket.

    The smaller woman laughed. "The map is good, but it will take you by all the main halls. I know the short ways. If it does not offend, I can show you. It is time I went to sleep as well."

    "I don't want to put you to any trouble . . . ."

    "It